


Burning the Ground

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Gym Class Heroes
Genre: M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-05 00:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Travis is setting Pete on fire</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burning the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> For the mini-kink bingo square "teasing"

Pete’s on something. He doesn’t even know what. He just knows that the little orange pill made him feel good, so two made him feel better, and three makes him feel like he’s flying. He’s lying on his bed, soaring through the air, smelling seawater and oranges like he’s on “Soarin’ Over California”. “Let’s go to Disneyland.”

“Later.” Travis is swallowing down another pill. Pete can’t tell if it’s orange or not. Orange is great. “Busy now.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Not now. Later. Not now. Now is great. This is great. What are you doing?”

Travis licks his lips and leans over Pete, his eyelids lowered so his lashes are like spiders on his cheeks. Pete reaches up to touch them. “I’m fucking high, baby.” Travis laughs and Pete giggles, harmony to Travis’s lower register. “What’cho doing?”

“Flying.” Pete spreads his arms out, lying spread-eagled on the bed. “I’m Superman.”

“Yeah? Man of steel.” Travis drops his head and rubs his stubble against Pete’s jaw. It’s soft and rough all at once, Pete’s nerve endings fucked up and frazzled, feeling everything. “Faster than a locomotive.” He turns his head, nipping at Pete’s skin now. Pete makes a soft sound and tilts his head back, wiggling his fingers.

“S-sensitive.”

“Mmm.” Travis turns to rub him with his stubble again, alternating it with quick, sharp nips along his jaw line, his chin. It’s maddening, soft and painful, gentle and rough, never enough of either. “Stronger than a building.” He licks the line of Pete’s jaw, from the hollow of Pete’s ear to the other then bites Pete’s earlobe. “Able to leap a speeding bullet.”

“Don’t think that’s…ah.” Pete shivers as Travis bites his earlobe again, sucking on it, his breath hot in Pete’s ear. “’s not right.”

“You care?” Travie drawls in Pete’s ear, tracing the lines of it with his tongue. Pete’s head is swimming, his vision blurry and white around the edges. “Hmm? You care, baby boy?”

“No. No.” He arches his body upward, seeking out contact, but Travis is braced above him, long arms keeping him too far away. “Travie, c’mon.”

“C’mon what?” He shifts, moving down to rub his chin against Pete’s throat. The stubble is rougher on the sensitive skin, scraping like sandpaper on Pete’s fucked up nerves. Pete gasps, head thrown back, arching his throat up for more, harder. He wants it to hurt, wants it to leave him raw and burnt. “C’mon this?”

Pete whimpers, grabbing the bedspread when Travis turns his head, replacing stubble with his teeth again, raking them across the hot flesh. Pete bites his lip to keep from crying out, pleasure and pain mixing and melting and threading through him like the orange pill in his bloodstream. It just seems to spur Travis on, making him take his time, biting and sucking on Pete’s throat until he feels like it’s a column of bruises, like all the blood in his body is focused there, pounding relentlessly. He closes his eyes, letting his head fall to the side, moaning softly.

Travis’s fingers smooth down Pete’s body, touching his arms and chest as he bites a line along Pete’s shoulder before snaking his way down Pete’s arm, licking the dark lines of his tattoos. Pete knows the story of them, but Travis’s tongue makes it all tell a different tale, not following characters, but Pete’s veins and nerves, licking them out of order, rewriting Pete’s ink. Pete can see it all come alive, bright lights dancing behind his eyes, like Travis’s tongue is drawing in the air as it moves on Pete’s skin. Travie sucks Pete’s wrist, biting and breaking skin and Pete’s cock jerks, his whole body arching up.

“Fuck, baby boy.” Travis holds his thumb over the bite, pinning Pete’s wrist to the bed. “So fuckin’ good.”

“Travie. Travie. C’mon, please.”

Travis shakes his head, the soft strands of his afro teasing at Pete’s skin as he lowers his head again, this time focusing on Pete’s nipple. He bites hard and sucks and Pete cries out. He can feel Travis’s thigh between his legs and he clamps his thighs tight around him, pressing his dick against the hard muscle. His nipple seems to be connected directly to his dick, and every suck makes his cock throb painfully, perfectly. Pete’s seeing colors and lights, his body like a _Lite Brite_ , new glowing pins going in wherever Travis’s teeth and tongue and fingers touch him. Travis moves to Pete’s other nipple, biting even harder and Pete moans, thick and throaty. His hips jerk again and he wraps his legs over the back of Travis’s, thrusting up against him deliberately now.

“Fuck, baby boy. You want it, don’t you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Fuck, Travie, please. C’mon.” Pete moans, desperate for more friction. His head is spinning, the orange pills setting his blood on fire, and he’s going to burst into flames, going to go up like a phoenix, scorch Travie, scorch the earth. He keeps hitting his head back against the pillow, and he’s lost track of Travis on top of him, lost track of what’s real and what’s not, what’s human teeth and tongue and what are his nerves, connections crossed and short-circuiting. “Please. God. Need. Need.”

He doesn’t recognize the weight settled on him, only knows that it _is_ , and he grinds up into it, friction and pressure. It’s pure instinct, his hips moving without any thought from him, his brain offline and overloaded. Even the raw heat that floods against his cock doesn’t make sense until the rough scrape of wet fabric chafing his skin pushes past the pleasure into pain.

Pete opens his eyes, blinking blearily at Travis who is still braced over him, his own eyes closed and mouth open, his breath loud in the room. “Those orange pills are awesome.”

“Yeah,” Travis nods and then drops onto the bed next to Pete, his own boxers damp, his tattoos glowing in the light from the lamp on the nightstand. “Disneyland tomorrow, okay?”

“On orange pills?”

Travie smiles, his eyes still closed. “Fuck yeah.”  



End file.
